self-insert
by Cl2.NaCL
Summary: self-insert for a present for the dearest hagfisher.


It has been the long day, and you feel it in your bones. It drags in your step; it is there in your eyes. You can feel it in your eyes, there are dark circles underneath them. Just a physical reminder of how hard the week has been. The dim firelight from the banked fire in the firebox softly illuminates everything in the cab, including your co-worker, Maxwell Huges.

Maxwell is from America, so instead of the custom cocoa and tea the chaps of the railway normally drank he chose coffee; even if it was at a late hour like tonight. Now, he sat in the driver's seat and sipped his cup gingerly, looking through the steam and making eye contact with you.

There's this feeling in your chest you can't quite describe that came with Maxwell; both on a physical level and an emotional one. It started when he saved your life two years ago- Percy had been going at some godspeed that the tank engine couldn't handle- and crashed into a farming wall that had been constructed out of cobblestone as was every farming fence. The pain was unimaginable; for you split your head open and Maxwell was the one holding your wound closed so that you wouldn't die of blood loss.

After that, he was at the hospital two times a day. Once before work and once after, even when visiting hours had ended. He managed to get in the facility just to bring you news of Percy's recovery and the gifts and cards of the railway staff. At first, it wasn't such a big deal to not see him at all times of day...but then you started to crave the times Maxwell would come, cherishing your every moment with him; when Maxwell left, your heart left too. You would become silent again until he came back.

So now, you two were sitting in the cab, sharing a moment of silence accented by the punctual sounds of the other steam locomotives in the shed. Maxwell grins, and you grin back. It makes your heart flutter, feeling his stare. You know what he's saying.

 _It's about time we got home._

Home, meaning the small makeshift beds you two had made in the rafters of the sheds- like a barn loft. There are only six hours until you will have to rise again- Percy must take an early morning run, and much to your relief, you are being paid overtime. So six hours it is before you are back on the footplate.

Maxwell sighs and stretches, unbuttoning his uniform coat and letting loose his tie. He casts a glance at you, and you look down quickly before following him out of the cab. The rest of the engines are very much asleep by now, soft snoring floating through the still shed. The only light is the occasional lantern up by the workmen's tables, but no-one is there.

You can feel your leg muscles groaning as you climb the ladder to the rafters. Rough-hewn boards have been placed to form a sort of private area for the crew, but tonight it is just you and Maxwell. Henry's crew is attending to some business late into the night, and they will be back tomorrow morning.

Maxwell takes off his uniform jacket, hanging it up on a peg by their claimed beds. Your beds are made upon a pile of hay with a heavy wool blanket thrown over, but there are two indents clearly seen. The one to the left has four different blankets, and that is yours...Maxwell sleeps to the right.

After taking off his uniform and putting on some more acceptable sleeping clothes, Maxwell falls into his pile with a _thwump._ He laughs and throws his hands up, stretching out in the hay like a cat. You smile back, following suit.

You look up to the ceiling, wondering what lays above. Was it clouds? Stars? Something else that he didn't know? There was a pair of nesting sparrows above, fluttering about but never making a sound.

Next to you, Maxwell shifts. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him peek over to your side of the bed. What he's up to is enticingly curious, and you decide to see what he is going to do. What he does do next, however, completely surprises you.

He lets out a small grunt as he shifts his position to a more upright stance, conveniently making you be able to see him clearly without giving yourself away. He reaches down his pants to what you assume is his underwear and starts palming himself, just very slowly at first. His brown eyebrows are knitted in a kind of furrow, concentrated on what he's doing. You can see his jaw tighten as he starts to grip himself, before pulling his pants down fully.

Sure, you have seen Maxwell naked before- in the watering-hole, where you two once rinsed off soot from a fire. There are various instances where one sees another without their clothes, but it was purely for their task at hand. But now, Maxwell's white undershirt is halfway up his torso, exposing his well-built abdomen from lifting heavy things while on the job. A thin line of dark hair runs from his chest and down his stomach, spreading out to where you know his groin is.

You also are surprised by with how much determination Maxwell jacks himself with, there is great control but also a more raw feeling to it. Your breath hitches in your throat in case he would hear you, but now he's in the throes of pleasure. Who he's thinking about, you don't know. What you do know is what you see.

Hands moving nimbly, Maxwell produces a paper towel from the side of the bed and keeps it at hand, moving faster. Your cheeks flush with guilt when you realise that his hips are slightly moving with his heavy breathing, testes moving with each rep. His penis is now redding and swelling to size, becoming fully erect in preparation for what it served.

He lets out a small moan, some intelligible words falling from his tongue ungraciously. He brings his left hand, closest to you, up and bites down on his index finger, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. And then for a mere second, he loses it.

There is just one moan as Maxwell throws his head back, deep into the bed, brown hair pasted to his forehead with sweat. His hand he was biting down on is now holding the paper towel, catching the semen that came in great spurts. A small little bit lands on your nose, but you don't dare move for sake of keeping the moment; your heart is racing wildly now, like a jackhammer. You count ten reps until he is dry, panting and sweating but satisfied. For now. The sweat beading on his stomach hair is wiped up along with any mess he made, before noticing the little spot on your nose.

There's a moment of hesitation as he reaches over to your side, and you squeeze your eyes shut hoping he will not notice your blush hidden by the blankets. The soft brush of the paper towel is all you feel.

You reopen your eyes to see Maxwell's pants back up, but the is gazing around. For a moment, his eyes rest on you….and then he turns over, finally off to sleep.

Deciding to join him in slumber is a good idea, so you decide to try to calm your beating heart with deep breaths while staring at his backside, knowing what had taken place only moments before.


End file.
